Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Within the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Shen Haoran sat cross-legged, hovering inches above the polished floor.

His eyes remained shut, but his consciousness was operating at a tier of boundless, god-like calculation.

The empirical knowledge, cosmic models, and mathematical truths extracted from the souls of the educated Blue Star scholars churned in his spiritual sea.

Since the dawn of time, the supreme emperors had constructed their private domains through vague, poetic intuition—borrowing the fragmented Dao of heaven and earth, forcing chaotic yin and yang into fragile stasis, and relying on unstable spiritual runes that cracked whenever higher tribulations descended.

Haoran rejected that archaic methodology.

He would not merely build a world out of spirit; he would forge one governed by immutable, self-sustaining laws.

Slowly, Haoran extended his will outward.

The boundless void of his inner world shuddered.

The chaotic purple mist drifting across the perimeter was violently drawn inward toward a single, microscopic coordinate floating millions of miles above.

Haoran gathered the primordial chaos, the power of Azathoth, the ambient spiritual energy, and the unformed spatial matter, compressing them into an infinitesimal point of absolute density and infinite temperature.

Then, he whispered.

”...Let there be life.”

BANG!

A silent, cosmic explosion ripped through the dimensions of his private universe.

It was not a chaotic detonation of spiritual qi, but an orchestrated genesis—a Big Bang born of conscious divine will coupled with rigorous thermodynamic precision.

Space itself rapidly uncurled from its microscopic prison, expanding outward in an astronomical wave of light-years per millisecond.

The blinding flash of primordial plasma bathed the void in a searing ocean of pure, incandescent white fire.

Haoran’s fingers twitched in intricate mudras, weaving fundamental constants into the fabric of the newly birthed space-time.

He established the speed of light, anchoring the threshold of physical velocity.

He sculpted the four fundamental interactions: the strong nuclear force to bind the cores of matter together, the weak nuclear force to govern decay and transformation, electromagnetism to allow atoms to hold their form and trade light, and gravity—not as an arbitrary earth-element talisman, but as the elegant, curvature of space-time itself bending under the mass of existence.

As the scorching plasma expanded, it cooled.

Fundamental particles—quarks and gluons—coalesced into protons and neutrons, capturing electrons to form the very first clouds of primordial hydrogen and helium.

Vast, swirling nebulae of deep indigo, burning violet, and luminous rose gas drifted across the expanding firmament, stretching into breathtaking cosmic ribbons that spanned hundreds of thousands of miles.

Under the unyielding pull of newly forged gravity, these cosmic gas clouds began to collapse.

At the center of the greatest swirling maelstrom, density and pressure skyrocketed.

Deep within the core, hydrogen atoms collided with such terrifying violence that their barriers shattered, initiating self-sustaining nuclear fusion.

Fwhoooom!

A brilliant, golden star ignited in the heavens.

It was not an artificial talismanic lantern sustained by external spiritual stones, but a true celestial furnace, blazing with raw solar radiance, casting the warmth of authentic nuclear fire across the nascent solar system.

Around it, other gravitational wells gathered cosmic dust, colliding, fusing, and accreting into spinning spheres of molten rock and crystalline mineral.

Haoran gently swept his sleeves, guiding the orbital trajectories into mathematical harmony.

Beneath the warm light of the newly birthed sun, the primary continental plane took shape.

Massive tectonic plates ground against one another with thunderous roars, thrusting colossal mountain chains of granite and basalt into the sky.

Subterranean magma veins surged, forming volcanic cradles that outgassed vast oceans of steam, which rose into the upper atmosphere, cooled into dense rain clouds, and fell back to the earth in a monumental, hundred-year deluge of pure, revitalizing water.

Oceans of deep, crystalline sapphire filled the barren basins.

Rivers carved winding, silver paths through rolling valleys.

The barren land that had once served as his sole earth expanded, its boundaries dissolving as it integrated into the continental bedrock, transmuting the ambient stone into veins of spiritual ore and jade marrow.

Then came the miracle of life.

He infused the ancient, nutrient-rich primordial seas with strands of vibrant life-essence from his Gold Incinerating Supreme Flame, guiding the formation of complex amino acids and cellular matrices.

Driven by his divine blueprint, life bloomed with terrifying, breathtaking speed.

Microscopic organisms evolved into lush, resilient flora.

The first carpets of emerald moss climbed out of the water, clinging to the jagged coastlines before spreading inward across the continents.

Soon, towering primeval forests of ancient ironwood, jade-leaf pines, and blooming spirit blossoms surged from the fertile soil, blanketing the mountain ranges in rich, vibrant shades of jade, emerald, and gold.

The air grew thick and sweet with pure, oxygenated atmosphere saturated with refined, crystalline spiritual qi.

Clear streams burgeoned with schooling spirit fish; dragonflies with wings of spun glass hovered over dew-kissed lotus ponds, and the wind carried the vibrant, humming symphony of a living, breathing, complete ecosystem.

And the last touch, utilizing the nigh infinite qi of his Physique, he filled the entire world with spiritual qi, turning mundane life into supernatural.

Haoran’s barren inner world had slowly, miraculously gained life.

Standing at the perimeter of the Hanging Gardens, Shen Xun’er and Qing’er were completely frozen in awe.

For the entire duration of his seclusion, the two had remained vigilant, watching as the world around them slowly changed from a barren universe into one teeming with life.

Shen Xun’er stepped onto the balcony of the gardens, her wide, purple eyes reflecting the golden light of the celestial sun and the swirling beauty of the distant, violet nebulae.

Her delicate hands clutched the railing, her knuckles turning slightly white from sheer emotional overwhelm.

”This... this is beautiful...” Xun’er whispered, her voice trembling with an exquisite mixture of wonder and profound reverence. ”I can’t believe this, is this really something that a mere Spirit Ascension can accomplish?!”

Beside her, Qing’er’s crimson eyes were wide, completely stripped of their usual lethal detachment.

A gentle, warm breeze brushed through her dark bangs, carrying the scent of blooming peach blossoms and wild, wet soil from the distant valleys below.

Her fingers twitched slightly as she reached out, feeling the physical, humid warmth of the living air brushing against her skin.

”The balance of the laws here is absolute,” Qing’er murmured, her husky voice laced with disbelief. ”There are no conflicting spiritual frictions. The water flows because the earth draws it downward; the fire burns because the wood feeds its breath. It is so complete... so pure. I have never seen a place so beautiful in all the three thousand realms.”

Both women stood side by side, marveling at the sweeping vistas of towering, misty peaks, crystalline waterfalls cascading thousands of feet into azure lakes, and the boundless canopy of stars twinkling peacefully above them.

The world was no longer a barren cage or a battlefield; it was an immortal paradise crafted by the hands of their master.

Suddenly, the heavy, oppressive spatial barrier surrounding the inner chambers of the Hanging Gardens dissolved with a soft, melodic hum.

The ambient spiritual qi of the entire realm surged toward the pavilion doors in a gentle, welcoming tide.

The newly birthed sun cast its golden rays through the archway, illuminating the figure who slowly stepped out onto the open veranda.

Shen Haoran had emerged.

He was clad in clean, white celestial robes that fluttered weightlessly around his frame.

His short, golden hair danced with the wind, and his presence had undergone a profound, terrifying evolution.

His skin radiated an ethereal, porcelain sheen, and within the depths of his golden pupils, the birth, collision, and orderly movement of cosmic galaxies rotated in endless, quiet loops.

The chaotic pressure of a young cultivator had vanished, replaced by the boundless, unfathomable depth of a true supreme who held the weight of an entire reality within his palms.

”Young Master!”

Shen Xun’er and Qing’er immediately turned, dropping to their knees upon the polished wood in unison, their heads bowed low with absolute, heartfelt veneration.

”Congratulations to Young Master for comprehending the Dao of creation and completing your seclusion!” Xun’er declared, her voice ringing with genuine pride and devotion.

Haoran stepped to the edge of the veranda, leaning slightly against the carved jade balustrade as he looked out across the sprawling, verdant empire he had constructed.

A faint, satisfied smile curved his lips.

He raised his hand, casually flexing his fingers, and felt the immense, terrifying synergy between his personal cultivation and the living universe beneath his feet.

By replacing the fragile, superstitious doctrines of traditional cultivation with the mathematical and physical logic of Blue Star, his inner world had attained near-perfect stability.

Every beat of his heart drew upon the energy of nuclear stars and gravitational fields, granting him an inexhaustible, god-like foundation that far exceeded the limits of his current realm.

”Get up,” Haoran said softly, his voice carrying the calm, resonant authority of a creator looking upon his loyal retainers. ”You both have guarded this place well.”

”It is our supreme honor, Young Master,” Qing’er replied, rising gracefully alongside Xun’er, her crimson eyes fixed upon his radiant countenance with unyielding loyalty.

Haoran’s eyes narrowed into slits of golden light.

He had played long enough.

But now that his inner world was complete and his divine foundation was solidified by the laws of cosmic physics, there was no need to play around anymore.

Haoran smoothed down the folds of his spotless white sleeves, his expression settling into an icy, unshakeable resolve.

”Xun’er, contact the Ten Crowns, no, contact all students of the Imperial Academy,” Haoran commanded, his voice dropping into a tone of chilling, imperial finality that sent a pleasant shiver down his maids’ spines. ”We shall eliminate all rebelling forces, right now.”

”Understood, Young Master!”

Haoran turned towards the distance. He knew from the memeories of the players that they were given a mission to rescue the four sacred grounds and the White Dragon Sect.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, all the world’s strongest forces should have gathered in Rising Dragon Sect.

Just perfect. They can be eliminated in one fell swoop.

*

*

*

The sky above the desolate desert groaned under the silent, terrifying weight of folded space.

Chen Feng materialized out of the void, his spatial transit ending without a whisper of wind.

He looked down, confused.

Spread across the desolate land was a colossal, sprawling fortress of stone and jade that seemed to defy the very architectural heritage of the Northern Domain.

Bizarre, unnervingly symmetrical pavilions stretched in neat, grid-like avenues, massive stone courtyards buzzed with frantic, erratic movement, and defensive towers carved from polished alloy hummed with foreign, azure glyphs.

Chen Feng had roamed the breadth of this world for centuries before his eight-year imprisonment in the dimensional abyss—there had never been a grand sect rooted within these place.

A compound of this staggering scale could not simply sprout from the bedrock overnight without the world noticing.

Yet the architecture was the least jarring anomaly.

His divine sense unfurled, sweeping downward to gauge the martial foundation beneath the clouds, and the moment it pierced the perimeter wards, Chen Feng’s eyes narrowed into sharp, incredulous daggers.

The spiritual density rising from the valley was astronomical.

Across the ancient world, stepping into the Nirvana Rebirth Realm was a feat of blood, bone, and decades of bitter asceticism.

An orthodox top tier sect might boast a dozen elders at that tier, while each of the Four Sacred Grounds might muster several dozens to safeguard its core ancestral homes.

Yet down below, he can feel hundreds, no, thousands of Nirvana Rebirth Realm experts!

Wait, those qi feels familiar.

Chen Feng’s irises contracted. His divine perception locked onto the flowing spiritual pathways of these experts, dissecting the foundational essence running through their meridians.

As expected, it’s them!

Without hesitation, he descended towards the Sect Master Palace.

The radiance of his physique flared, and he tore through the cloud ceiling like a falling meteor.

The defensive wards lining the high roofs shattered with a brittle shriek, unable to withstand even the ambient friction of his descent.

He folded space once more, bypassing the massive double doors, the decorative courtyards, and the vaulted corridors in a fraction of an instant.

He materialized directly inside the grand audience chamber.

The hall was vast, supported by towering pillars of carved dragon-wood, where several people at the Nirvana Rebirth Realm have gathered.

Standing around a wide table inscribed with glowing military maps, were a group of people who are all at the Nirvana Rebirth realm experts.

Seeing him suddenly appear, everyone was surprised.

Chen Feng stood tall in his pristine robes, his hair drifting as if submerged in deep water.

The experts froze, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

”You...”

A voice broke through the suffocating silence, trembling with stunned, incoherent shock.

”...White Dragon Emperor!?”